Animus Possidendi
by Kate McK
Summary: "The intention to possess." A throwback to season 3. Just your average bachelor auction. Grab some wine, I'm supplying the cheese.


**Animus Possidendi**

 **A/N:** This story started writing itself and then hounded me to finish it. I still haven't rewatched the series, so I've taken some creative license instead. I'm aware that I'm pushing the characters a bit out of their comfort zones, but all is fair in love and fan fiction.

This is unbeta'd. I shudder as I type this. It's been years since I've flown solo. Please forgive any mistakes, or better yet, point them out. And if anyone is interested in applying for the position of beta, please let me know. I'm willing to return the favor.

Beta'd as at 5 January. Thanks, Michael.

A big thank you to everyone who reviewed Res Ipsa Loquitur. You guys keep us in business.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Suits. Please don't sue.

* * *

"When are you going to stop signing me up for shit like this?"

"When you are no longer New York City's most eligible bachelor. It's for a good cause."

"Why is that always supposed to make it better? Can't I just give money and be done with it?"

"Now, where's the fun in that?" Donna closes the gap between them, giving the Windsor knot a tug to make sure it's perfectly centered. Then she smooths down his lapels and takes a step back, giving him a once over. He's dressed in his best three-piece Tom Ford, and judging by the way Donna subconsciously licks her bottom lip, he's chosen well.

Harvey exhales the breath he's been holding.

"Did you see the women out there?" he asks. "The hundred-year-old widows? And all those trophy wives?"

"I've seen less plastic at a Tupperware party."

"I swear, you're the best choice out there."

"Thank you, Harvey, that makes me feel so special." She steps forward again to brush a piece of lint from his shoulder. "It's too bad all my money is tied up in orange futures."

He frowns at her. "You're not funny."

"I'm hilarious. I'm Donna."

As if to prove her point, she licks the pads of two fingers and reaches for his temple to smooth out his hair. He ducks his head to the side, flinching, and manages to escape her just in time.

"See?" She smirks as she grabs a tissue from a box on a nearby table to clean her hands.

"Seriously, though, do me a favor?" Harvey asks.

"Anything."

He pulls an envelope from his inside pocket and hands it to her. She smiles up at him with a devilish twinkle in her eyes that does funny things to the back of his knees.

"Is it bonus time already?"

"No, smartass. It's a blank check. Buy me, I don't care how much it sets me back."

Donna shakes her head. "That's cheating."

"It's a loophole. It's for a good cause." He tilts his head and makes _the_ face – the one he swears got him through the door The Other Time. He sometimes wonders if she's really put that night out of her head for good.

She scrunches her nose for a moment before plucking it from his fingers, tapping the corner of the envelope against her chin as she looks him up and down again. "I'll think about it. Then again, there is this pair of Louboutin's at Neiman Marcus…"

He opens his mouth to protest, but then his name is called and Donna is nudging him out of the wings in the direction of the stage.

"Break a heart!" she calls after him.

The stage is hot and one of the spotlights shines directly into his eyes. He can't make out much of the crowd, but he spots Donna right away.

The bidding starts at $200, and he's not too proud to admit that he's a little put out, but then the proverbial ball starts rolling, and before he knows it, the auctioneer is rapidly moving up into the tens of thousands. Numbers are popping up all over the room, but his attention is focused on one spot.

Donna doesn't raise her paddle. Not once.

He's going to strangle her.

The bid reaches thirty thousand.

Donna finds her manicure extremely interesting.

Harvey's palms are sweating.

At thirty-five thousand she cranes her neck, searching the ballroom for who knows what.

His tie starts choking him.

Forty thousand is called and Donna has managed to snag a glass of champagne from one of the elusive waiters, savoring the taste on her tongue as she intently watches the bubbles float to the surface.

Harvey's mouth goes dry.

The hammer falls on forty-six thousand eight hundred and fifty dollars.

And Donna is nowhere to be seen.

The spotlight finally dims and Harvey wishes it hasn't. He'd recognize those bedazzled Crocs, heading in his direction, anywhere.

Norma.

Norma bought him.

Where she got the money, he has no idea. Louis is too cheap to supplement her salary the way he does Donna's, but he doesn't have time to ponder further as Norma has handed over the check, and is pulling him by the wrist down the steps and through a throng of women making their disappointment known with rather unladylike jeers.

After a quick stop at coat check, he find himself on the sidewalk. He extracts his arm from Norma's grip and clears his throat.

"That was really nice of you, Norma," he says, "but let me repay you." Perhaps he can get out of this. His hopes are dashed when she smiles at him.

"It's quite alright, Mr. Specter, I have it covered." Then she grits her teeth when her top dentures threaten to slip.

A Hansom cab pulls up alongside them and Norma holds out a hand for him to help her up. Harvey groans inwardly, but complies anyway. Once settled, she pats the bench next to her.

"Are you sure I can't write you a check?" he asks. "You can take your friends for a fun night on the town. My treat." With that kind of money she can take her friends out for a fun month on the town, he thinks.

She shakes her head and looks at him expectantly. Harvey forces a smile and takes a seat, pushed into the side to allow as much space as possible between them. There's a definite chill in the air, with it being mid-October, but there's no way he's sharing the blanket she has draped over her legs.

Louis is playing a prank on him, Harvey decides as they take off, and he swears to himself that he will get his payback. He'll book out every mud bath across the city for the next year if that's what it takes.

Thankfully, Norma doesn't make any advances during the ride, but the silence is awkward. Since he's known her, their exchanges have been nothing more than brief eye contact whenever he absolutely had to go into Louis's office. He tries to remember if Donna has ever let anything slip about Norma's hobbies or interest as a starting point for some sort of conversation – the woman has paid a hefty price for him after all – but before his mind can pinpoint anything, the carriage turns into Central Park, and veers from the well-lit path before coming to a halt in a dark clearing.

Despite living in the city for years, he's never taken a horse-drawn carriage, but he'd bet his entire ball collection that this is not the normal route. The moon is hidden behind the trees and their shadows seem to stretch out for miles across the gravel and grass. He thinks he hears crickets, but it's hard to tell over the pounding of his heart. This is the kind of spot you'd bring someone if you planned to kill them. Or worse – to make out.

Harvey presses himself further into the back of the bench, keeping his eyes securely on Norma for any sudden movements. A cough from the front of the carriage startles him. It had completely slipped his mind that he had backup. Or that perhaps she had backup.

"I'll take it from here. Thank you, Norma."

The familiar voice sets him at ease, and he forgets all about his surroundings and dubious companion when Donna gracefully disembarks the driver's bench. She pulls the top hat off and shakes her head, causing her long red hair to cascade down her shoulders in waves. Harvey groans, knowing that that image is probably going to pop into his head at the most inopportune moments in the future. And definitely at some very opportune ones. She slips off the jacket and places it on the front bench next to the hat, before helping Norma clamber off.

"You won't forget our deal?" Norma asks.

"Of course not. Come Arbor Day, I'll be front and center at your desk."

Harvey's gaze flicks from one woman to the other as he picks up the thread of the conversation, but before he can raise his objection, Norma nods at Donna and disappears into the night without so much as a goodbye.

"You agreed to work for Louis?"

"It's just for one day. Six months from now. You'll survive."

Donna turns and grabs the seat rail to pull herself up. Shifting over to the middle of the bench, Harvey leans over to steady her, but she's already turning to take a seat.

"You'll owe me a day. Consider Halloween cancelled."

She gives him the side-eye as she wiggles around to get comfortable. "Do you _want_ me to call Norma back so the two of you can finish your date? We just saved your ass, Harvey, so you don't get to complain."

He wants to point out that she put his ass up for sale in the first place, but then her knee bumps his as he has neglected to move back to his side, and her mumbled apology, accompanied by a blush that's hard to miss, even in the low light, makes him forget why he's supposed to be annoyed.

"Why the cloak and dagger?" he asks instead.

"How's it going to look if I pay nearly fifty thousand for you so soon after you beat the shit out of my ex-boyfriend? Let the rumor mill speculate about you and Norma for a change."

"Trying to take the heat of you and Mike?" He knows that piece of gossip died down when the Harry-whoever kid was fired, but he's not about to bring up that murderous son of a bitch he should have protected her against.

"Green is not a good color on you."

"I can't say the same for you." Her Chiara Boni dress hugs every curve, showing off her yoga toned body. It compensates for the long sleeves and bateau neckline, hiding the freckles he traces with his eyes on those rare occasions when she's not paying attention.

"Wow, Harvey, that almost sounded like a compliment."

He bites back a smirk, well aware of the last time he paid her one, nearly a decade ago. It's not that he doesn't notice, she spends their money well, but it's one of those dangerous paths they dare not venture along. Tonight, however, he feels the need to tread recklessly. He blames it on the moonlight, illuminating her pale skin and bouncing off her vibrant hair. He wants to tell her that she's beautiful, but the comment dies on his lips when she shivers and tucks the blanket tighter across her thighs.

"Where's your coat?" he asks.

"I had to put my Maison Margiela down as a security deposit for this rickety thing. And that one," she says, waving a hand in the direction of the coat she discarded earlier, "smells like horse."

"Ever heard of cash?"

"What can I say? Raoul is a mean, mean man. He wanted to make sure I have incentive to return his livelihood."

"And his hat?"

Donna scrunches her nose. "That's a new hat you bought especially for tonight. And now you're donating it."

Harvey almost asks her to keep it. Instead he shrugs off his Tom Ford. The autumn wind nips at his hairline, but it barely registers as he drapes his coat over Donna's shoulders, catching notes of rose, peach pulp and soft amber that set his pulse buzzing.

She watches him, her expression wary. "Aren't you afraid your James Bond coat will take on a hint of equine?"

"Not in the slightest."

He folds the lapels one over the other, his thumbs brushing against the hollow of her throat. A soft sigh escapes her, the puff of air grazing his cheek. His hands still and his eyes raise to meet hers. They're so close he can make out gold flecks in hazel. Her lids flutter as his fingers start to trail along her jaw, following the smooth skin until they find purchase in the coppery hair that has fascinated him from the day he first laid eyes on her.

"Harvey." It's barely a whisper. Meant to be a warning, he thinks.

"Donna," he replies in the same tone. He has every intention of backing down then, but her teeth catch her bottom lip and he needs to know if she still tastes like a rich merlot, with hints of cinnamon and something so uniquely her. The hand at the back of her head encourages her to meet him halfway when he moves in, the other sliding up the side of her neck. Her pulse is erratic under his palm, matching his beat for beat. He nudges her nose with his, and when she doesn't resist, he angles his head to close the remaining distance.

"Are you folks ready to go?"

Harvey swallows a frustrated groan when Donna pulls away and he finds his hands suddenly empty. His only consolation is the way her eyes shine a little too brightly under the frown she doesn't manage to hide in time.

She turns to whom he assumes is Raoul. He misses the exchange as he takes a deep breath in an effort to regain his composure, but beats her to it when the driver holds out her jacket, taking it from him and dropping it in his lap. She raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at the action.

"We can switch later," Harvey says. The wind rushing over him is a welcome relief, and he doesn't think he can handle her smell enveloping him while they're still in such close proximity. Plus, he rather enjoys the sight of her wrapped up in _his_ coat.

Neither of them speaks until the carriage exists the park and turns back onto the road.

Donna is the first to break the silence. "You weren't serious about Halloween, were you?"

"That depends." He stretches one arm across the back of the bench, itching to rest it against her shoulders, but refrains.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this?"

Harvey smirks. She'll probably object to his plan to get Louis to 'take the day' when Arbor Day rolls around, but he'll find a workaround. He's lucky enough to have her, even if it is just as his executive assistant, for now, and he doesn't share.

* * *

 **A/N:** First off, apologies to the dearly departed Norma. I made you a caricature. I think of you this way, fondly.

Secondly, thank you, Internet. Donna's dress probably wasn't available at the time, and the coat definitely not, but let's let that slide. Tom Ford, however, does make a James Bond coat. How fitting is that?

Thirdly. Yes, Donna can handle a horse. She's Donna. She's awesome.

And last, but not least. Yes, I'm a tease sometimes. I don't apologize for who I am. But I will make it up to you in the next one.

Take care, Suitors!

PS. If you're a Chuckster and a Suitor, I hope you spotted your little Easter egg.


End file.
